Penumbra II: The Anzem Gauntlets
by Ancalagar the Dragon Lord
Summary: In addition to goblin riots, multiple intrigues at the Ministry, and a weakening Auror force, the resistance is facing a new danger: Voldemort is seeking an ancient artifact of tremendous and destructive power, and will stop at nothing to obtain it. If he succeeds, British Wizardry will fall. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley separately take it upon themselves to stop him.
1. Chapter 1: A Phoenix Feather

**Note: This story will occasionally use terminology from different languages, or derived from different languages. At the head of a chapter with these words, I'll provide translations. Here is this chapter's terminology:**

**Koboldrang**: One of two Germanic goblin nations, which covers eastern Germany, Austria, the western half of Switzerland, and a large portion of Poland and the Czech Republic**. **

**Dagadalf****: **The other Germanic goblin nation, which covers western Germany, the Netherlands, and part of Switzerland.

**Zaubereiministerium****: **German Ministry of Magic

**Kobold****: **the German word for goblin. Occasionally used in English too.

**Ministeriumpolizei****: **German magical law enforcement

**Triskel/Triskelion****: **Grindelwald's former followers, some of whom managed to escape justice after their leader's defeat.

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Chapter 1

A Phoenix Feather

Great insult struck Koboldrang in the form of an unpunished murder. Magical Germany faced retribution in the form of an enraged Kobold population.

It is well known that the Teutonic goblin nations of Koboldrang and Dagadalf survived only by a brokered deal with the Wizarding Nation of Germany: they kept their traditional borders, but only goblins recognized those borders, while the territory of the Staat overlapped these. They were subject to the laws of the Zaubereiministerium, but had High Councils with the power to object to new laws for the welfare of the nation. They had their own judges, but the goblin courts of law only held sway in goblin affairs. Such had been their state ever since the devastating and failed Koboldalfic Rebellion of the mid-17th Century, and the tyrant Rudolf Grindelwald, in the early 20th century, weakened their nations to the point of utter powerlessness. For many years, the Kobolds were at the mercy of their wizard masters.

In other words, Koboldrang and Dagadalf barely had any status as true nations, but that fact did not lessen their pride and their indignation at this oppression. For several decades following the fall of the Triskelions, the goblins remained vulnerable, easily manipulated by wizard opportunists and lingering supremacists. But by the end of the 20th century, they were regaining in strength.

One murder brought back all the resentment and rage over the Triskelions' actions, and one obstruction of justice forced the Ministerium to face a renewed threat of rebellion for the first time in decades.

"Once again," enunciated Dagobert Magnachar, one of the High Councilors of Koboldrang, "the Zaubereiministerium writes a decree encroaching upon our rights as judges of Koboldrang. First it was their refusal to prosecute Albrecht Glöckner when he cheated our Adamantium industries, then it was their ignoring of Alexander Aicher's embezzlement against our banks, and now they have denied us the right to try Georg Schultheiss, a man known to have murdered one of our citizens." He glared at the other councilors. "No orders were given to the Ministeriumpolizei to investigate the crime, nor did they give heed to the evidence we provided." He held out a roll of parchment for the councilors to see. "Instead, a document has been given to us, absolving Schultheiss of the crime and asking of us our acceptance, our obedience, like some submissive child. Councilors, my signature will not appear on that document. Do as you please, but I refuse to abide by this latest offense at the hands of human wizards."

Magnachar sat down. The other councilors whispered to each other. Ten minutes later, they unanimously declared their objection to the Ministerium's actions, and refused to sign the document as requested. They did not expect the Zaubereiminister or his justice minister to give consequence to their refusal.

It was the first open act of defiance that the German Minister of Magic had felt from the Koboldic High Council for decades. In effect, the goblins had told him that if ever Georg Schultheiss fell into their hands, they would try him for murder with or without the Ministerium's consent or knowledge.

The shock of Koboldrang's recalcitrance swept through Wizarding Germany in a couple of days. The fury at the Ministerium's corruption swept through Koboldrang just as quickly. Soon Koboldic goblins took to the streets of Germany's numerous Wizarding communities, determined to make their displeasure known. The more the Minister of Magic insisted that insufficient evidence was given to justify a trial, the angrier the goblins became. Riots first broke out in the magical community near Schwerin, when a group of goblins smashed the windows of the community hall stormed inside and threw the chief constable out the third floor window. He survived only by landing in a large heap of manure. The Ministerium sent Aurors to contain the situation, but it was only the beginning.

To complicate the situation further, the goblins of Dagadalf had also started vehement protests, and there were even hints that the anger and indignation had spread beyond the territories of Germanic goblins.

Nothing would pacify the Kobolds, except the prosecution of Schultheiss. For some reason that even confused German wizards, the Minister would not grant the trial they demanded. The situation was difficult, but if something didn't pacify the Kobolds, then Germany faced the possibility of goblin rebellion for the first time in over a century.

* * *

The police constable could hardly believe the scene. It was total carnage. The street was covered with blood, with the pieces and contorted forms of mangled bodies. The town was not large, but there were only enough witnesses to form a vague picture of how this many people had been so brutally murdered, let alone why.

The eyewitnesses insisted that a number of unidentified persons had stormed the streets, killing everyone in sight. What happened afterwards was uncertain, as the witnesses gave garbled accounts, but then again, the town was naturally in a state of panic and confusion. When it finally ended, half of the people in the town square had been massacred, but strangely enough, half of the dead were the supposed attackers. There was no explanation for this, for any of it.

"PC Herman Archer?" a firm voice asked.

Archer turned around to see a taller man standing behind him. The latter showed him an I.D. card. "Tom Ingram, MI5," the man told him.

Archer nodded in greeting. "It's about time one of your lot got here," he told Ingram. A sudden flash lit up their vision, and Ingram glowered at the policemen who were taking photographs of the scene, and at a few reporters who had already shown up.

"Get them out of here," he said to Archer.

"Police have to take photos, sir," Archer argued.

"I understand that, but I don't need them here," he said, pointing at the press.

Archer sighed, and took his radio out. He spoke for a few minutes with one of his colleagues, trying to request assistance ushering the reporters away. It took a few minutes because his radio kept making static noises and tuning out, with Archer trying in some frustration to fix the problem. When he finished, he looked sheepishly at Ingram.

"The radios have been having problems since the attack started," Archer told him. "It's why it took us so long to get here. Many of us didn't know what was happening until it was over."

"Just the radios?" asked Ingram, frowning.

"Well, and the phones. There were a few with mobile phones, but those weren't working very well either."

Ingram looked around the scene, his lips pursed. Archer frowned at him. "You don't know why that is, do you?"

"We'll discuss that later. Eyewitnesses?"

"A few who managed to escape," Archer answered, as he raised the police tape for Ingram to duck under. "Their accounts are confused though. None of them quite agree."

"What do they have in common, if anything?" asked Ingram.

"Only that none of the attackers seemed to be using any kind of weapon," Archer told him. "There were no knives, no gunfire, no bombs, nothing that you'd expect, looking at it."

Ingram frowned at the scene lying before him. "Hand to hand?" he asked skeptically.

Archer snorted. "You think that even crazy people can cause this much carnage without weapons? Some witnesses report that, but others are saying things about flashing lights."

"Indeed? What sort of lights?"

"That differs as well." Archer looked at Ingram carefully. "Perhaps you'd like to question the witnesses, see what you make if it."

"Good, show me to them."

Archer led Ingram away from the scene, heading towards the police headquarters, where his colleagues already had begun questioning the ten or eleven eyewitnesses who had survived the attack. As they left, Ingram, glancing back at the crime scene, thought he saw someone duck out of the scene from under the police tape, but in the glimpse he got, he could tell that the person wasn't wearing a police uniform.

But he ignored that, thinking it was probably just some reporter who'd managed to get through the barriers unnoticed. That was for the town constabulary to deal with, not him.

A few minutes later, Archer led Ingram into an interrogation room, where another police constable was waiting with a young woman in hand. Archer sat down and turned on the tape recorder.

"PC Herman Archer and Tom Ingram, representing MI5, and witness Mary Cooper." He looked up at the woman, who looked very pale, understandably upset by what she'd seen, but had managed to keep calm for the interview. Archer leaned forward, and intently told her, "Kindly describe what you saw in the town square at approximately 10:34 A.M. today."

Mary swallowed, and began her testimony. As she spoke, Ingram seemed to be taking notes, while Archer simply listened. When she finished, Ingram put his pen down.

"Mrs. Cooper, you say that there were flashing lights during the assault," he said. "What sort of lights?"

"Erm…" She paused, considering her answer. "Green lights. I thought I saw a couple of red, but mostly green."

"Could you see where these green lights originated from?" asked Ingram.

Mrs. Cooper frowned. "At one point, I thought I saw it coming from their hands, but I might have been imagining it."

Archer was frowning too, but he chose not to comment on this. "And how did the attack end?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'd run by that point."

"Very well," sighed Archer. "Interview terminated."

He turned off the recorder. As the other police constable led her away, Ingram looked at Archer. "So, what do you think of that?" he asked.

"Green lights coming from hands?" Archer, looked thoughtful. "Perhaps flares to set up a distraction of some sort. Maybe they thought that would confuse the victims, making it easier to attack them."

"Perhaps," Ingram agreed. "Rather creative if that was the intent."

The next witness, an older man named Jim Stock, had come upon the incident when it was nearly over, and didn't see any lights, but he did see the attackers suddenly drop dead, a description not unlike puppets whose strings were cut.

"Did you see what caused them to collapse?" asked Archer.

"No."

"Did they all go down at the same time, or in succession?" asked Ingram.

Jim hesitated. "At the same time."

It wasn't long after this that Archer terminated the interview. After Jim had left, the constable and the agent looked at each other.

"A suicide attack, probably," Ingram suggested. "I'd wait for the report from forensics before coming up with any conclusions." He stretched his back with a groan, and stood up. "Before we call in the next witness, I'm going to get some coffee. You down for that?"

Archer nodded absentmindedly. Ingram exited the interrogation room, and looked over at the two police constables who were watching the interviews from behind a two-way mirror. They looked up at him, and after a moment, one of them gave him a discreet nod, which Ingram returned. He then headed towards the main office, where he knew the PCs kept a coffee machine. As he passed by another constable, just leaving the machine, she looked at him intently, and mouthed, "The one on the right."

He shot her a small smile in thanks, and turned to the table next to the coffee machine, and picked up the indicated creamer, and then held in his jacket as he brewed the coffee, keeping it out of sight.

When he had produced two steaming cups of coffee, Ingram poured some of the contents from the concealed creamer into one cup, and left the other devoid of cream. He then placed the creamer back where he'd found it. As he turned around and started his way back to the interrogation room, he saw the same constable return to the coffee table and surreptitiously remove the creamer.

Upon returning to the interrogation room, he handed the cup to Archer, who accepted it with muffled thanks. Ingram sat down again and sipped his coffee, wincing slightly at the heat and the bitter taste.

The last unquestioned witness was an old woman, Elizabeth Bates, who seemed the most unwilling to speak of what she'd seen. It took nearly half an hour of coaxing before they could get any more out of here than what the other witnesses had already said. At least, Ingram coaxed her, as Archer seemed to be growing less attentive to the interview. According to Mrs. Bates, the attack was very sudden, starting from people mingling with others in the crowd, but when asked she said she neither saw nor heard any kind of signal to commence the assault.

"Did you see anything unusual about them, before the attack started?" asked Ingram. "Were they talking to anyone, or were they just walking around?"

"Walking around," Mrs. Bates answered. "They didn't talk to anybody."

"Did you recognize any of them?" asked Archer wearily. Ingram glanced at him, and saw that he was leaning forward heavily, his expression tired and strained.

Mrs. Bates hesitated, and Ingram looked at her with a tense expression. Archer merely blinked at her.

"Mrs. Bates," he said sternly, "did you recognize any of the attackers?"

She swallowed. "Yes," she told them.

Ingram leaned forward intently. This was unique. To his knowledge, none of the witnesses had recognized the attackers. "Who did you recognize?"

Tears appeared in Mrs. Bates's eyes, and she shook her head.

"Mrs. Bates, who did you recognize?" Ingram repeated.

The elderly woman choked. "One of them was my sister," she finally admitted. "I'd recognize her anywhere, only it couldn't have been her."

"Why not?" asked Ingram.

"Because she's been dead for fifty years!" Mrs. Bates cried.

At that moment, several things happened. A yell resonated from outside the interrogation room, and Ingram stood abruptly, looking toward the two-way mirror. Then he heard a policemen yell, "What the hell do you think you're doing!" followed by a shout of "Stupefy!" There was a sudden thunk as Archer's head hit the table, and he started snoring. As Mrs. Bates looked at him incredulously, Ingram whipped out his concealed wand.

"Obliviate!" he cried.

Mrs. Bates's pupils dilated, and she looked at him with a dazed expression. "What's going on?" she asked vaguely, and Ingram surreptitiously pointed his wand at her, causing her to lean backwards in her chair and her eyes closed. Within seconds, she too was fast asleep.

Ingram turned off the recording machine and removed and pocketed the cassette tape. He then left the room, and one of the constables standing outside the mirror met him at the entrance. He handed him the tape.

"Everything went smoothly, Thurstan?" he asked.

"Very, Mr. Savage," Thurstan replied. "We've placed a fog spell on the crime scene, and

my men have Stunned and Obliviated all the Muggles on scene, as well as the reporters. The Muggles in this building are all drugged or Stunned, as well."

"Nobody saw you?"

"Nobody still conscious. We've also set the clocks back half an hour, so it will appear that little time has passed when they start to wake up. As a finishing touch, they won't even remember being unconscious."

"Excellent. What about the CCTV cameras?" asked Ingram, or Auror Savage, as his true name was.

"Only a few remained functional during the outburst of magical energy, but they've been deactivated and we've put together false video evidence to switch with the real recordings. The cameras in the building were deactivated just before we started Stunning the police constables." Thurstan pocketed the tape. "I'll have the rewritten copy in twenty minutes, and then I'll send the real recording to you tonight. Welch and his team have already started the process of Obliviating both constables and witnesses, and planting false memories, Fretwell and Johnson have set up the crime scene to resemble the aftermath of an explosion, and Tracy's team has already started Transfiguring the bodies to fit that. We've also removed the Inferi. If all goes well, the Muggles will think this was a suicide bombing."

Savage winced. "Good. Thank God this didn't occur in a place like London or Birmingham, or it would be considerably more complicated and we'd need more hands."

"What about the real Tom Ingram?" asked the other disguised Magical Law Enforcement agent.

"An actual MI5 agent, as you know, but my team are giving him false memories of being here as we speak," Savage told him with some satisfaction. "I anticipate about half an hour before more Muggle authorities show up. Think you can have the entire scene staged by that point?"

"That's cutting it a bit close," Thurstan admitted, "but it's doable."

"Good. I want to see a full report on my desk by this evening," Savage told him.

When he left the building five minutes later, another man in the uniform of a police constable met him at the entrance.

"I think MLE can handle it from here, Proudfoot," Savage told him.

"I'm glad. Almost fifteen years of fighting Dark Magic, and Inferi still make me positively ill," Proudfoot sighed. "What did you get from the witnesses?"

Savage buried his hands in his pockets, looking around the scene. "We'll have to carefully examine the memories of the witnesses, but they've described the same thing as that family in Gobowen. I think it's now confirmed. The Inferi are casting spells."

"God. How is that possible?"

"I wish I knew," sighed Savage. "Robards will want a report by tomorrow morning. I'll handle that. With any luck, he'll be able to get the Unspeakables researching this immediately."

They walked into the parking garage by the police headquarters, and found a well-hidden corner. Just as he Disapparated, Savage caught a glimpse of a hunched man clutching a camera, darting out of sight.

* * *

Menger Gadlak wasn't usually tired after a day at Gringotts, but on this evening, he was. His day had started normally, although it had been tiresome when the Tylwthteg watchgoblins showed up to supervise security, a circumstance caused by a possible breakin.

It was surreptitious, to say the least, but the week before, when Menger received his usual report of the vault monitoring (particularly those of the Death Eaters whose assets Gringotts had frozen), he noticed that a few Galleons had disappeared from Avery's vault. However, when security went down there and investigated the vault, they found no sign that anyone had been there. It indicated either that the reports were mistaken, or that a Death Eater had managed to gain access to his money without detection. If that were the case, it left the question of how. Menger suspected that Avery had placed a goblin under the Imperius Curse.

To make matters more difficult for him and his father, the Tylwthteg High Council continued to pressure Scrimgeour for better protection, while Scrimgeour continued to demand access to the bank's records in his obsession with finding Harry Potter. When trying to coordinate all this with actually getting administrative tasks done, Menger's day became very convoluted and exhausting.

But now Gringotts was about at closing time, and Menger, closeted in his office, sipped a glass of mead, hoping to relax a bit. The candles were unlit, so the only light in the room was coming from his fireplace. The only sound in the room was a ticking clock, and Menger leaned back in his chair, trying to think of something more pleasant than his day.

Just as he thought things couldn't possibly make the day more tiresome, the feather appeared.

As Menger took the bottle and prepared to pour himself another glass, a burst of flame suddenly erupted on top of his desk, causing him to jump. He dropped the mead bottle, which shattered on the floor. But his attention remained focused on the scarlet and gold feather that had appeared on his desk.

Surprised and confused, Menger picked up the feather, scrutinizing it closely, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted when he heard a footstep behind him.

"Do not turn around," a voice whispered.

The tip of a wand suddenly touched the back of his neck. Menger froze. The voice was hollow, disguised, so he couldn't tell if it originated from anyone he'd know or recognize, but he remained looking ahead.

"I won't kill you," the voice assured him. "But if you turn around I will erase your memory of this encounter."

Menger let out a shaky breath. "Who-" But he then stopped, realizing that his visitor would not answer this question, if he wouldn't allow him to so much as look at him. So instead, he asked, "What do you want?"

"How very like a goblin, so direct." The voice sounded amused. "That's refreshing. You won't beat around the bush, but you will be very interested in what I have to say."

"You bring information?" He frowned. "What makes you think I want information?"

"Do not take me for a fool, Menger Gadlak." All traces of amusement vanished from the voice. "I know you and your father have deeply involved yourselves in this war, even if no one else has seen that yet. I know you intend to pose some form of resistance to the Death Eaters. I know who you are hiding at your sanctuary."

Menger swallowed. "How did you find that out?"

"My sources are my own. But you are the son of a Gadlak, raised to be a Gadlak. Your life centers around finances, and you know that following money can lead to all sorts of information. I'd begin with that."

"Begin?" the goblin repeated. "Am I searching for something?"

"For someone, a goblin by the name of Sardik Dagnovar. The Death Eaters have been ordered to find him and bring him before the Dark Lord."

"Why?"

"Knowledge. The Dark Lord has taken immense interest in some artifact or device, which he believes will ensure his victory in this war. At present, all his sources are focused on obtaining it."

"What sort of device?" asked Menger.

"I do not yet know the nature of it, only that it will be very powerful and very deadly for the Dark Lord to so obsessively pursue it. But I do know that it is somehow connected to Sardik Dagnovar."

"How do I know I can trust you?" asked Menger. "You display impressive skill just by entering my office without detection. To break into Gringotts, vault or office, is no small matter."

"The feather."

Menger glanced at the red feather again. The voice said nothing to elaborate, but he knew what he meant. There was only one wizard in Britain known to own a phoenix, and that fact alone had many implications. Upon that wizard's death, the phoenix either would have returned to its native domain, or it would have passed on to another wizard, and no phoenix would accept the companionship of someone that first wizard distrusted.

The voice ignored his silence. "You are not without resources," it said. "You and your father are in a uniquely good position to locate Dagnovar. It is imperative that you do so and quickly."

"Is this all you have to tell me?" asked Menger.

"For now."

"How can I contact you?" asked Menger.

"I will contact _you_. We will meet again if I obtain further information, but on my terms, and my terms only. My identity must never be compromised, not to the Dark Lord or to Harry Potter."

Menger swallowed again, feeling very nervous. "Who…?" He unthinkingly turned around. There was a flash of flame, and whoever was standing behind him had vanished before he could get so much as a glimpse of his visitor.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2: The Unspeakable's Disclosure

Chapter 2

The Unspeakable's Disclosure

When he saw the growing fear and hopelessness among British wizardry, and the growing anger against himself, Minister Rufus Scrimgeour belatedly came to the realization that his Auror patrols and arrests of "suspect" persons to appear competent had utterly failed. Since appearance was no longer enough to appease his citizens, Scrimgeour turned to Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt for advice, rather than the Minister's traditional advisors, Thus he changed his policy to better protect the Muggle-born population and, to give the people the feeling of action, created the Advanced Defense course, which would be taught in a rotation by different Aurors.

What he hadn't anticipated was just how many people would sign up for it, especially in a time when the Aurors were most needed.

After weeks of training, weeks of observing the various Auror trainers, Amelia Croaker, a part-time member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, observed Auror Nymphadora Tonks as she valiantly attempted to teach the fifty or so attendees to conjure a Patronus, or, at the very least, to conjure the silvery mist.

"It can delay a Dementor," she had told them. "It's better than nothing."

But it couldn't have been clearer, from the very beginning of the program, that most of the fifty or so attendees couldn't so much as Disarm, let alone drive back a Dementor. A few scattered persons seemed fairly competent. Most were lousy at Defense, probably due to the long line of incompetent, one-year Defense professors at Hogwarts, Amelia bitterly reflected.

"She's looking a bit tired, isn't she?" asked a girl standing next to her, looking at the Auror.

That was an understatement, Amelia thought. Tonks looked a little pale, and there were dark rings around her eyes. Her normally pink hair had turned a dull brown color. She looked exhausted. Amelia had noticed that many of the other Aurors, after nearly four months of teaching this on and off, looked the same.

"They need a better way of doing this," Amelia responded. "The Aurors can't keep fighting Death Eaters as well asteach this course."

The girl nodded. "Hopefully someone will have the sense to bring this up with Robards or Scrimgeour before long."

Amelia looked back at her fellow attendee, a smaller girl with black, curly hair and tan skin. She was wearing a black leather jacket, and her eyes were darkened with thick black eyeshadow, which made her look powerful and even intimidating, in spite of her size.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gwen," the girl replied. She was still watching Tonks with a frown. "And you?"

"Amelia."

"So, apart from the obvious, why'd you sign up for this?"

"The obvious being that it's a good idea to at least know basic Defense?" asked Amelia dryly. "I suppose I hope to be able to make a difference in some small way."

Gwen looked at her with a slightly contemplative expression. "And do you think it's any good?"

"Erm…" Amelia couldn't honestly respond positively.

Hearing their conversation, a teenage boy looked around and said, "I've learned a couple of things, but I've heard that it's not up to par. My friend Hannah Abbott quit after the first week. She says its bloody rubbish."

"What would she know?" asked Gwen. Amelia couldn't help but notice that she sounded oddly casual. "She went through bad Defense professors as much as anyone, and I'd say that the Aurors are doing a better job than most of those professors."

"Well…" the boy hesitated. "She did say that Harry Potter was an infinitely better teacher. I didn't know he taught Defense."

"He was a year behind me in school," Gwen reflected, "but from what I've heard, he led a secret study group of some sort for Defense."

"Why secret?" asked the boy curiously.

"The Defense professor was rubbish. She also was Dolores Umbridge."

"Ah." Both the boy and Amelia nodded in understanding.

"I take it you both were at Hogwarts then?" asked Gwen.

"I was in my last year," Amelia told her.

"Third," the boy piped up. "Still, from what I've heard about Potter, he's as good at Defense as any of the Aurors. Wish I could take lessons from him."

"Stop talking, please!" Tonks called out, and they fell silent.

Amelia glanced at Gwen as she turned to pay attention to the lesson again, and thought she saw a small, satisfied smile appear on her face.

After another ten minutes of practicing the Patronus spell, Tonks finally called it a day. "Continue practice at home," she called out. "Lessons will be on Tuesday next week, instead of Monday, for the holiday. Happy Christmas to you all."

The attendees slowly left the room, although a few seemed to linger to speak with Tonks. Amelia was among them, although she waited until most of the others were gone before she stepped forward.

"Miss Tonks?" she asked tentatively.

"I know of no other," the Auror yawned. "And please, just call me Tonks."

"I have a question for you."

"Wouldn't have guessed that," Tonks said, sounding a little impatient.

"Yes, well…" Amelia glanced around the room. Only Gwen and the boy remained, but they were on the other side of the room, and talking in low voices. "I've got it on good authority that you'll be able to answer."

Tonks looked up and raised an eyebrow. She looked more interested.

Amelia didn't know how to approach this, and after a minute, she decided to simply be direct. "My name's Amelia Croaker. I want to join the Order of the Phoenix," she told the Auror.

Both of Tonks's eyebrows went up at this. At first she didn't say anything, instead reaching into her pocket, and taking out a bracelet, which she handed to Amelia. "Put this on."

She obeyed.

"As long as you are wearing this, you are under an Unbreakable Vow to tell the truth," Tonks told her, her voice dropping to a whisper. When Amelia nodded her understanding, she asked, "I will only ask two things, but after that, we can't talk here."

"I understand."

"Good. First, are you serious?"

"Yes," Amelia told her firmly.

"And you have no sympathy with the Death Eaters?"

"None at all. I'll do all I can to put an end to them."

Tonks looked satisfied, and she held a hand out. Amelia took off the bracelet and handed it back. "A representative will come to you at an undisclosed time," she informed Amelia. "That's all I can say for now."

She then made to move away, but then Amelia spoke up again: "If it's all right, I have a small request."

Tonks turned back around. Her eyebrows had raised again. "I'm all ears."

* * *

As soon as the boy was gone, Ginny looked back across the room and saw Tonks in conversation with the older girl, Amelia. Ginny quietly left the room, one of several antechambers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which had been set aside for the Advance Defense program. She followed the boy into the lifts, and then, once they reached the Atrium, headed towards the multiple phone booths that had been set up for visitors.

Once she had returned to the streets of Muggle London, she stepped through the doors of a predetermined hamburger joint near the Westminster Tube Station. Though it was late, there weren't many customers, allowing Ginny to order a couple of hamburgers immediately. All the while, she continually glanced at the windows, waiting.

When her order was ready, she chose a small table in a corner, which seated only two, and began eating, though she glanced up occasionally. After a few minutes, a middle-aged woman with whispy brown hair entered the restaurant, and upon seeing Ginny, made her way to her corner.

"Wotcher, Ginny," Tonks said wearily, taking a seat. Ginny quietly conjured a "Muffliato" shield, and then pushed the tray towards her, offering her the other hamburger, which Tonks took gratefully. "Ta."

"You're looking really tired today," Ginny observed. "You really ought to take the day off."

Tonks swallowed a mouthful. "I suppose. But it's one of those situations where you're a bit scared to."

"I can see that," Ginny said sympathetically.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Tonks, finishing her hamburger, looked up. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What can you tell me about that boy you lingered with afterwards?"

Ginny sipped her drink. "His name is Todd Gleick, friend to Hannah Abbott. He'd be a Hufflepuff Fifth Year this year. Muggle-born, but his younger sister Jamie is a witch, and would have started her first year this year. He registered for the Defense course largely to help protect his family."

"Not surprising. Most of the attendees are Muggle-born or half-blood." Tonks looked at Ginny closely. "You think he's interested?"

Ginny shrugged. "I mentioned the old D.A. in passing. He hasn't necessarily shown interest in actively fighting the Death Eaters, but he talked favorably about Harry, and I think he might have heard of the Order of the Phoenix. I'll have to get Hannah to go on a preliminary recruiting visit."

"Good." Tonks popped a chip into her mouth. "So if he joins, that'll make what, fourteen new recruits in the past two months?"

Ginny nodded. "He'll be the first who wasn't in the original D.A., though."

"If he does join, who'll you put him with?"

"Terry doesn't have anyone in his charge yet," Ginny told her. "We'll see what Hannah has to say, and make a decision from there."

Tonks yawned widely. "You know, maybe I will take a day off. I'd be no use to anyone if I dropped dead tomorrow, which I probably will." She leaned back and rubbed her left temple for a moment. Then she sat back up. "Oh, and by the way, I might have another potential recruit for you."

Ginny looked up in surprise, and then frowned as she thought back to the end of the lesson. "That girl Amelia?"

Tonks looked slightly taken aback, but then she grinned. "You're an observant one. How'd you know her name?"

"I had a short chat with her."

"Well, you'll be having another soon. She basically came up to me and straight out said that she wanted to join the Order."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Did she? That's rare. Do you think she meant it?"

"Absolutely, courtesy of Fred and George." Tonks pulled the bracelet from her pocket and wordlessly showed Ginny, who grinned. "How much d'you know about her already?"

"Only that she was in Seventh year while Harry was running the old D.A.," Ginny replied. "Maybe Angelina or Katie know her. Luna could get one of them to visit her."

"Well, all I can tell you otherwise is that her last name's Croaker," Tonks answered. "Dunno why that sounds familiar."

Ginny frowned. "Good familiar or bad familiar?"

"Neither, really." Tonks paused. "But before you put Angelina on it, Miss Croaker requested that _you_ visit her."

Ginny blinked. "Me? Specifically?"

"Yep."

"Why?" Ginny asked, thoroughly taken aback.

"She didn't say, but I'll bet your status as Harry Potter's former girlfriend has aught to do with it."

"I see." Ginny thought this over. It was a little bit disconcerting, even alarming, that someone so unknown to her would specifically request to see her, even more so if Ginny's connection with Harry was the reason. But on the other hand, Tonks had ensured that Amelia truly did want to join up, and that she had no ill intentions. She seemed trustworthy enough.

"Are you going to go?" asked Tonks.

"I suppose I'll have to," Ginny sighed. "Maybe tonight. I'll bring Fred and George with me."

"I'll come as well," Tonks said. "Given the unusualness of this meeting, we ought to be there in case you need assistance at any point."

Ginny nodded. "The more, the merrier, as they say. I'll let you know as soon as I've spoken to the twins."

* * *

There was an ear-splitting crack. Ginny let go of Fred's arm and fell forward, and doubled over, but she managed to refrain from vomiting.

"I _hate_ doing that!" she hissed at her brother. "It's been two hundred years since they first developed Apparation. Can't they develop a more comfortable way of doing it?"

Fred took a notebook from his pocket and a ball-point pen. "New task: develop a form of transport that doesn't make you sick," he muttered cheerfully, scribbling on the notebook. "Got it."

Ginny grinned. "Let me know when you're done." She looked around. They seemed to be in a small park. At least, she could see some houses nearby. "So, this is Dorset, right?"

"Specifically, the town of Crossways," Fred clarified. "Tonks told us to meet her at the library."

"And do we know where that is?'

"Well, let's see." Fred stepped forward, looking around a bit. "I think she said that if we go left down that street there, we'll eventually come to the library. 'Course, we could just ask directions."

Ginny scowled. "Fred, it's eleven o' clock in the evening! The odd person you find out at this hour probably is going to wonder why you're looking for a building that would be closed at this hour."

Fred merely shrugged, and led the way from the park. Just as they'd hoped, the street was almost completely deserted, though Ginny could see a couple of people smoking on a street corner. But she ignored them, and they showed about as much interest.

The library turned out to be quite close to the park, although they only saw it after passing a bend in the road. The Crossways Library wasn't a very large building, and were it not for the two human outlines, one of whom with an unmistakable shock of purple hair, who they could just see by one of the street lamps, Ginny probably wouldn't have noticed it.

"Wotcha," Tonks said cheerfully.

Her companion turned out to be Remus, who merely nodded and smiled in greeting. Ginny pointed her wand at the street lamp, which went out with a loud crack, leaving their segment of the street dark. They then heard the sound of a car approaching, and seeing headlights coming closer to them, as one, they hurried from the street. Once they were on the sidewalk, Ginny then waved her wand. "Muffliato!"

"So, where does the enigmatic Amelia Croaker live?" asked Fred.

Tonks pointed her thumb over her shoulder, seemingly at the library. "The street back there, apparently. Just follow me."

"And she doesn't know we're coming?" asked Remus, who didn't usually accompany Ginny or Tonks or anyone else involved in the D.A. project on these recruitment trips.

"Oh, they always know we're coming," Ginny told him matter-of-factly. "They just never know exactly when."

As Tonks led the way down the street, Remus, still speaking quietly, asked Ginny, "How's working with Contacts 1 and 2?"

Knowing that he referred to Neville and Luna, who were Ginny's official D.A. contacts, she simply replied, "We're trying to master 'Tego maledictem.' Once we do, Neville and Luna will start training their contacts. I've already sent instructions for the rest of the D.A. to begin doing their own research and practice."

"Tego maledictem?" Remus repeated. "That's a difficult spell."

"As we've discovered," Ginny sighed. "But I think if we're to be any use at all, we all ought to be able to at least produce a weak shield."

"Can you?"

"Only a weak one. Not a full one. But it's better than nothing."

Remus shrugged, but his expression was approving. They walked on without further conversation, until they were about halfway down another street. Remus also turned off the street lamps here, and they pressed forward. Tonks stopped abruptly, and then consulted her address book.

"Over this way," she said, gesturing at a smaller house about two doors from where they were standing. Ginny could see a dim light through the blinds of a window, but nothing else. Tonks waved her wand over the doorknob in a series of elegant wiggles.

"There are multiple spells on the lock," she told them after a moment. "'Alohomora' won't work, and neither will 'Resero.' In fact, either of them might set off alarms."

"What about non-magical means?" asked Fred.

Tonks analyzed the handle again. "Probably safe."

Grinning broadly, Fred took a lock pick from his pocket.

"Why does it not surprise me you have one of those?" Remus whispered, amused.

Fred, already engrossed in picking the lock, made no reply. Unable to really see him and watch, Ginny marveled that Fred could see what he was doing himself. But after a moment they heard a small click, and he turned the handle, and slowly swung the door open.

They crept inside, and as soon as Remus came in, he quietly closed the door behind him.

"Hominum revelio," Tonks whispered, and they heard a gentle rushing sound. Tonks looked at her wand. "She's over there," she said, pointing towards the dim light. "And she's alone."

When they crept into the lounge, they found Amelia reclined in an armchair, sipping some tea, and with her nose in a book. The moment they entered the room, however, she closed the book, put her teacup down, and looked at them, completely unfazed by their appearance.

"You were a bit prompter than I expected," she noted. Looking over the group, she raised her eyebrows at Ginny, undoubtedly surprised at seeing "Gwen" involved in the Order. After a moment, she asked, "My request?"

Tonks nodded at Ginny, who reached up and removed the hair clip. Amelia blinked at the shock of red hair.

"You wanted to see me?" Ginny asked dryly.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I did want you here specifically, but we'll get to that later."

Ginny took a seat on the sofa, positioned so that she was almost sitting across the room from Amelia. "You volunteered for the Order of the Phoenix at the Defense training today," she observed, looking closely at the older woman. "You also swore by a magical binding that you have no bad intentions or motivations."

"I did, and that was the truth," Amelia told Ginny.

"Fine, so what do you already know about the Order of the Phoenix, and about Harry Potter's defense training during the Umbridge fiasco?" asked Fred.

Amelia leaned back in her chair, smiling coolly. "The Order of the Phoenix, a secret and independent society of wizards dedicated to the eradication of the Death Eater movement and other Dark Magic conspiracies, originally organized as the Helvetian Paladins by the Dumbledore brothers to bring Grindelwald and the Triskelions to justice," she stated, as though reading from an encyclopedia article. But she wasn't done yet. "Dumbledore's Army, an illegal student association organized by Harry Potter to study practical Defense when Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge abused their authority to stifle the education of Hogwarts students in an ill-advised campaign to deny the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Ginny was strongly reminded of Hermione. With raised eyebrows, she could only comment, "You've done your homework."

"You're wondering how I learned all of that," Amelia asserted, seeing their astonished expressions. "Again, we'll get to that later. Say what you intend to say, and then I'll tell you why I wanted you here."

"Fair enough," Ginny agreed. "I normally first ask if you're aware that joining the Order of the Phoenix is a considerable risk to your life and possibly the lives of your family as well, but I suppose you already know that as well."

"You suppose rightly," Amelia shrugged.

"And you are prepared to take this risk?"

"I know what is at stake," she said, "probably better than you do yourself. So yes, I'll help in any way I can."

"You are prepared to die fighting Voldemort?" Ginny asked.

"Yes."

"You are prepared to defy the Ministry of Magic, if necessary, to end this threat?"

Amelia shrugged again. "I don't see what good would come of the Ministry as it is currently run. You know that the Ministry is weak, as well as I do. I'm already aware of the Death Eaters bending the Ministry backwards with bribes, threats, blackmail, you name it. Unless things take a drastic and miraculous turn, the Ministry will eventually fall. So I have no reason to support it as it is."

Ginny nodded, satisfied. She then glanced at Tonks, who said, "The Order of the Phoenix does not readily or instantly recruit anyone into its numbers. If you are determined to join our numbers, you will become part of a preliminary training organization, Dumbledore's Army, which we've started up again, and participate in advanced Defense and Offense training, as well as minor, low-risk operations. We will keep an eye on your progress, and when we feel you might be ready, we will induct you into the Order."

"I understand," Amelia said, looking pleased.

Ginny reached into her pocket and passed Amelia a Galleon and a Sickle. "These are your means of contact with members of the D.A.," she told her. "When an announcement is to be given to the D.A. as a whole, it will appear on the sides of the Galleon where there normally would be a serial number. Do you have copies of _The Combatant's Guide to Defensive and Offensive Spellwork?__" _

Amelia hesitated. "I'm not sure. My father might, though."

"If you don't, Owl Order it under a pseudonym," Ginny instructed. "Neither the Order nor the D.A. wish to leave anything to trace us by. No patterns."

"Of course."

"Most of the announcements on the Galleon will show a page and volume number, where you'd find a spell we want you to practice," she told Amelia.

"Right. And the Sickle?"

"You will be in direct contact with one other member of the D.A., who has been in the organization for longer than you have," Ginny informed her. "Their messages will appear on the coin under the letters 'AMS.' They will probably arrange a meeting with you in person."

"Normally this person would have contact you himself or herself, whichever it is," Tonks told Amelia. "But as you specifically asked for Ginny…"

Amelia nodded in understanding as she pocketed the coins. Then she quietly asked, "Do you want to know why, now?"

Ginny and Tonks nodded. Amelia stood up, and then opened a door to a back room. After a moment, a man took off an Invisibility Cloak.

"I'd like to introduce you to my father, Saul Croaker," Amelia told them. "It is he who wishes to meet specifically with Miss Weasley, not I."

Ginny was on her feet and had her wand out in a split second. The other three Order members had also drawn their wands at the sight of him, but Croaker, looking not in the least bit bothered, took his wand out and tossed it on the floor at Ginny's feet.

"I'm of no threat to you," he said, "so you can put those away."

Nobody complied. They all stared at each other, and during that time, Amelia also took her wand out, and set it on a table beside Remus, and stepped away from it.

"How did you escape detection?" Remus finally asked, speaking for the first time since they entered. "Tonks's life detection spell only detected your daughter."

"My dear Mr. Lupin, I work for the Department of Mysteries," Croaker told him impatiently. "I know some tricks of both Defensive magic and stealth magic which aren't always even part of Auror training, let alone the school curriculum."

"The Department of Mysteries?" Tonks repeated. She sounded a bit nervous. "I thought your name sounded familiar. You're an Unspeakable, aren't you?"

Croaker made no response. He looked rather bored. But the others all understood the implications of this visit. For anyone in the Department of Mysteries to be involved in a rendezvous with the Order of the Phoenix was an intensely significant thing, possibly dangerous.

"And why did you want to see me?" Ginny asked him cautiously.

Croaker eyed her speculatively. "You are suspicious of my intent?"

"I'm not in a position to trust anyone by default," Ginny answered impatiently.

"That is something you and I have in common, Miss Weasley," Croaker replied. "I have information which may interest the Order of the Phoenix or Harry Potter, whoever you answer to."

"To do with Voldemort?"

Croaker only winced slightly, but he ignored Ginny's use of the name. "Perhaps. You already know, of course, that the Death Eaters tried to steal a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries nearly two years ago, given that you were there. Potter would have been the ideal one to contact here, but as he is… er… _unavailable_, I felt you were next in line. Your connection with Potter, along with your involvement in that incident, is a large reason I contacted you."

"How do you know I was there?" Ginny asked, startled. "That's not widely known."

Croaker coughed. "We make a point of knowing exactly who enters and exits the Department, and when, ever since that bastard Rookwood infiltrated us."

"If that's true, then why were you not aware of the Death Eaters trying to break into the Hall of Prophecy in the first place?" Remus asked incredulously. "They had made several attempts before that."

Croaker made no response, but he raised an eyebrow.

Ginny understood at once. "Oh, I see," she said. "You did know. That means you must have been aware of Voldemort's return long before Fudge had the decency to admit to it."

Amelia scowled at her, but Croaker spoke up first, looking completely unfazed at Ginny's indignation.

"The Department of Mysteries has always played the game very carefully," Croaker told her quietly. "But I didn't bring you here to argue about the past. What the Order does not know is that the Death Eaters have attempted to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries several times since then."

"Why?" asked Tonks. "The prophecy was destroyed. That's no secret."

Ginny looked at Croaker, trying to read his expression. Then she caught on. "There's something else they're after, isn't there? Was it something they learned about when they broke into the Department, or earlier?"

"We believe the former," Croaker told her. "It is the sort of thing that would readily catch the Dark Lord's interest, and certainly would be catastrophic to the Wizarding World if it ever fell into his hands."

"So what is it?" asked Ginny.

"That is not in my power to tell you," Croaker replied. "You'll have to find out for yourself."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" demanded Ginny angrily. "If this is as serious as you say it is, then damn the Ministry of Magic and its laws, we need to know right away!"

"It's not that I _won't_ tell you," Croaker retorted, "it's that I _can't_! There's a reason we're called Unspeakables, Miss Weasley. I'd hardly be of use to you or anyone if I ended up in St. Mungo's with my mind snapped like Broderick Bode. It's another measure we've unfortunately had to take, ever since Rookwood was exposed."

"Then why take the trouble to bring us here, if you can't actually tell us anything?" asked Fred.

"As I said, the Department of Mysteries plays the game very carefully," Croaker answered him. "The secrecy oaths I've taken don't cover everything in the Department of Mysteries. Most of it, yes, but not everything. In fact, sometimes, if an oath is not required, it is an indicator that my supervisor wants the information to be put in specific hands."

Ginny swallowed, and glanced at the others, suddenly understanding why Remus and Tonks looked nervous. She'd had no idea that the Department of Mysteries ran so independently, and began to wonder how powerful they actually were.

"Is it something Scrimgeour knows about?" asked Ginny.

"No, and nor will he. We don't even tell the Minister of Magic everything."

"So what _can_ you tell us?"

Croaker smiled slyly. "There is one person who can tell you more about the item they're after: a man named Patrick Duncan. Unfortunately, he seems to have realized the danger of such knowledge himself. It has come to our attention that he has disappeared from his home, most likely in an attempt to flee from the Dark Lord. But if you can find him, and obtain the information you need, then it will be in your power to place the item of interest beyond the Dark Lord's reach."

"What, you won't yourself?" asked Fred. "If this thing is in your hands…"

"It is, and it isn't," Croaker told him. "Frankly, I believe that the few in the Department who know of its existence would be very happy to wash their hands of it. But the only other thing I can tell you is that it _used_ to be located in the Department of Mysteries, but no longer."

Remus nodded in understanding. "You mean the Unspeakables hid it as soon as they learned the information was compromised."

Croaker only smiled slyly.

"God, I hate intrigue sometimes," Ginny groaned, realizing that her life had been full of it ever since Voldemort had returned. Then she returned to the matter at hand. "So this Patrick Duncan… who is he, and where would we start looking for him?"

"The most important information about him might compromise the nature of this item, so that's also classified," Croaker told her. He didn't sound even remotely apologetic. "However, Mr. Duncan isn't the most obscure wizard in magical Britain. You should be able to find him in any newspaper index that covers the past five years."

"Or ask scholars of Ancient Runes," Amelia added. Her father looked at her in some surprise, but she shrugged and remarked, "I think Cho Chang said something about him being a guest speaker in that class at one point."

Ginny looked at her. "Were you serious about joining the Order?" she asked irritably, "or was that a ruse to get us here?"

"I swore under a magical binding that I was serious," Amelia said, sounding a little amused. "But I'm afraid I won't be a source of information about the Department of Mysteries. Dad somehow guessed that I was interested in the Order, and when I told him I hoped to join, he asked me to arrange this meeting."

Croaker looked back around. "I use what sources I can. I knew that Miss Tonks was in the Order, and probably the whole Weasley family, but everyone else I knew or guessed to be in the Order was too closely under Scrimgeour's scrutiny."

"Another reason you wanted to talk to me personally," Ginny surmised, given that without Hogwarts in operation, Scrimgeour couldn't keep consistent tabs on her, however much he'd like to. "Although I've been under scrutiny more ever since that bloody article of Skeeter's."

Croaker smirked. "Maybe, but you've done a very impressive job of keeping on scene yet out of sight nonetheless. You'd make a good Unspeakable."

They were silent for a minute. Then Remus promised him, "We'll get this information to the right people as soon as possible."

"There's more," Croaker said, looking at Tonks, "but on an unrelated topic. It's more for Shacklebolt's ears than yours, though it is concern to the whole Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes?" asked Tonks.

"You'll have heard of Savage's concerns about the man videotaping him during a cleanup of the Inferius attack on the town Norton last week?"

Tonks nodded. "Both MLE and the Aurors are on high alert because of it. Savage went back instantly, but of course the man was gone by then, but there was no magical residue of either Apparation or Portkey magic."

Croaker didn't look surprised by this. "But there was magical residue there, just not the kind you might expect. For more information on that topic, I'd contact the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, particularly the Goblin Liaison Office."

Tonks blinked. "It was a goblin?"

Croaker didn't answer the question. "There's a name that we've been aware of for some time, 'Tylwthteg Hran,' but we don't completely understand the nature of this name." His infuriatingly sly smile had returned. "Do be careful, Miss Tonks. I don't yet know what sort of threat this poses, but I don't imagine that a goblin would tail the Aurors simply for kicks and giggles."

Then, without another word, he left the room, and the Order members to decide what to do with his information.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Because of several remarks on this topic, there is something that I want to clarify before moving on. I've mentioned a few times that I've had the fundamental story for "Penumbra" planned out for years, since before the release of "Deathly Hallows." As such, the "Penumbra" series has absolutely ****no**** connection with "Deathly Hallows," and anything that was revealed in DH does not exist here. **

**With that in mind, here are a few things I want to clear up, especially concerning Grindelwald and his background (which for some reason I'm asked about a lot):**

**We knew virtually nothing about Grindelwald, including his first name, until Book 7. As long as he's played a factor in the "Penumbra" series, his name has been Rudolf, although I'm not against extending his name to Rudolf Gellert Grindelwald, if it makes you feel better. **

**In "Penumbra," the background stories of both Grindelwald and Dumbledore are completely different. Neither of them have any connection with Godric's Hollow, and they were not two sudden friends obsessed with some quest for power. Also, Dumbledore's sexuality has nothing to do with his relationship with Grindelwald or the plot of "Penumbra". **

**Furthermore, Grindelwald is dead, not imprisoned. In this story he did not survive the duel with Dumbledore. **

**Grindelwald was not involved in any particular search for items such as the Deathly Hallows. He is remembered as a particularly horrible Dark Wizard partly because he was as skilled at magic as Dumbledore, had about as much conscience as Voldemort, and had a greater number of followers. In addition to this, he had a lot of political power. I don't remember if I ever openly say it, but he also had a Muggle puppet by the name of Adolf Hitler, so he indirectly exercised a great deal of power over the Muggles at that time as well as over wizards. **

**Grindelwald's followers, the Triskelions, rose to power in a very similar way to the Nazis: by winning over the populace and gaining seats of government office in a perfectly legal election, then hijacking the laws to establish a dictatorship. **

**There are other points where "Penumbra" greatly differs from "Deathly Hallows," aside from basic plot. For instance, the remaining Horcruxes are not hidden in the same places that they were in Book 7, and the Ravenclaw Horcrux is not a diadem, and certainly isn't in the Room of Requirement. **

**So basically, scratch ****everything**** that happened or was revealed in "Deathly Hallows." It does not apply here. **


	3. Chapter 3:Dhárdin di Ginbaingh Revisited

Chapter 3

Dhárdin di Ginbaingh Revisited

There was a gentle rushing sound, and seated on the watchtower, an elderly goblin leapt up from his slumped dozing position. A much younger goblin seemingly gyrated into existence, standing on the wooden dock overlooking Shardranghis Bay, straightening his fur cap, and his eyes fixed on the watchgoblin.

"_Latskelta__, _Taern Grimrook," he apologized.

"Were you asleep, Mr. Faelkhar?" asked Grimrook. Faelkhar nodded guiltily, and he sighed and muttered to himself, "We will need younger goblins to act as guards here before long. I shouldn't worry, though. I'd be shocked if a Death Eater managed to get here, especially this early on."

Faelkhar, with his limited English, listened to Grimrook with an uncomprehending expression. The latter smiled and repeated all he'd said in Gobbledygook, and then allowed Faelkhar to return to his post. He then made his way up the somewhat slushy path leading past Taer. As soon as he was clear of the trees, however, the sound of sloshing footsteps met his ears, and he looked up to see Ron Weasley coming down the bath. Upon seeing Grimrook, the young wizard stopped.

"You're here early," he remarked.

"You're out early," Grimrook pointed out.

Ron looked up at the darkening sky. "Figured I'd find out where Harry ran off to, though he'll probably be back soon if it starts snowing again."

Grimrook nodded, knowing that Harry sometimes wandered around the island, both for his own private ruminations, and to get away from the stressful environment that Taer sometimes became these days. Considering the degree of activity that he, Ron, and Hermione had undertaken for the past few months, he couldn't blame Harry.

On a related, more pleasant subject, Grimrook asked Ron, "How's the riding practice?"

Ever since Grimrook and Menger had started teaching the trio to ride on horseback (or rather Harry and Ron; Hermione hated horses), Ron had found a new pastime. Although he protested that he'd hated Care of Magical Creatures, Grimrook could tell that he had become attached to the well-trained horses.

Ron shrugged. "I thought I'd hate it. The only horse I'd ever ridden before this was a Thestral. Guess it makes a difference if you can see the bloody animal, though."

He suddenly looked grim, though not from the memory of that unpleasant experience. Grimrook supposed that now he probably could see a Thestral. After another uncomfortable silence, Ron muttered something about asking in Drôn Khalgil. He then began to move back down the muddy path, before Grimrook called him back.

"Is Dr. Grobschmied busy?"

"Not sure," Ron answered. "I haven't seen him since Harry left his Occlumency lesson this morning."

"Is he making any progress?"

"Prof says he is," Ron told him, referring to Grobschmied. He grimaced. "But it sounds like Harry's getting frustrated. At least, he was today."

The goblin sighed. "Well, Rome wasn't built in a day."

But he and Ron both knew that Harry's growing impatience was rooted in his determination to avoid discussing the Horcruxes until he felt confident in the skill. The others were in agreement; Harry's scar had continued hurting on and off ever since that morning back in August, when it pained him for the first time in over a year. The phenomenon of Harry's scar, however, was unprecedented. Nobody, even Harry, completely understood the nature of his connection with Voldemort, more importantly whether or not he could tap into Harry's thoughts.

Because of the delay in the Horcrux hunt, he, Ron, and Hermione had devoted their time to other pursuits. Cecilia had declared Harry fully recovered in late September, and since then he'd used the time to rebuild his physical and magical strength. Ron and Hermione joined him in his daily training, and in the absence of Horcrux research (except what Hermione and Grobschmied did outside of Harry's hearing), they devoted their remaining time to the investigation of the Godric's Hollow attack, but without success.

In fact, it was this very topic that brought Grimrook to Dhárdin di Ginbaingh during his normal working hours.

"I need Dr. Grobschmied in the drawing room, as well as you and Harry and Hermione," Grimrook told him seriously. "I have some interesting news, which Mr. Gadlak passed along to me."

"Is it to do with this Sardik fellow they're looking for?"

Grimrook shook his head. "No, they've had little progress there. We found nothing at Mr. Dagnovar's home, and have asked all his friends and relatives without results. Menger's been looking at his financial history, but so far has turned up nothing. No, it's on another matter entirely, but an important one."

Ron nodded. "I think Hermione's in the testing field with your sister. They said something about shielding experiments. Harry better not be that far."

He then hurried down the road, or rather he moved as quickly as he could without sliding through the half-frozen mud. As soon as his splashing footsteps faded from Grimrook's hearing, the goblin drew his collar up against a gust of icy wind. When it passed, he took the note from his pocket and read the odd words again.

* * *

The rock exploded with the force of a bomb, unleashing a wave of energy and a colossal bang that caused Hedwig to shriek in alarm, flapping her wings frantically. Harry lowered his wand, breathing heavily, as though he had just run a mile. The degree of magical energy he'd unleashed in his frustration had winded him, but after letting it all out on a piece of the island's lithic shoreline, he had to admit that he felt slightly better.

When she calmed, Hedwig shot Harry an indignant look, and he apologized for frightening her, now that he had cooled off, and stowed his wand in the pocket of his winter coat. Then he moved closer to the edge of the cliff, looking northward at the seemingly infinite expanse of sea. Though Harry no longer felt an irrespressible urdge to curse the boulders on the shoreline into dust, he still felt a restlessness in his breast that he'd struggled with for some days now. After leaving Grobschmied's study just now, his frustration was ten times worse.

He knew that he should be more patient; it was, after all, his decision to delay the discussion of Horcruxes until he was safely assured that Voldemort couldn't learn about the mission through their connection. Dr. Grobschmied (or 'Prof', as he and the others sometimes called him) had started instructing Harry immediately after his recovery, determined to succeed where Snape had failed.

Harry had been surprised at first at the old goblin's methods. Initially he taught different techniques of meditation and emotional discipline, and it wasn't until the past month that he actually started teaching Harry how to obstacle an external intrusion. Harry had to admit that it wasn't as dreadful an experience as he'd feared. The goblin's approach was quite different from Snape's. In fact, Grobschmied had been quite incensed when Harry had described the experience.

"Snape!" he snarled. "Only _he_ would barge into the mind of a novice with all the force of a master Legilimens and expect you to block it! Of course you couldn't learn Occlumency! Every time Snape did that, he impaired your ability to focus, leaving you completely vulnerable! He didn't train you, he weakened you! He could have permanently damaged your mind!"

Harry had been completely taken aback by Grobschmied's rant, but he was unsurprised by his inference. Ever since Snape's betrayal, he'd suspected as much himself.

Grobschmied, by contrast, started out much more gently, simply probing the edges of Harry's mind and training him to block access. The goal was to build his resistance until he could block more forceful attempts, finally ending on him successfully blocking a more forceful attempt. It made sense, but there were some snags.

The first trouble lay in the difference between goblin and human magic. Without the use of wands or incantations, Grobschmied could enter Harry's mind simply through silent eye contact, which meant that he could start without even the slightest warning. This meant that during these sessions, Harry had to be constantly focused. This was so mentally exhausting that it left Harry grateful for the shorter length of the sessions, and the fact that Grobschmied only met with him twice a week, always giving Harry time to recover himself before continuing. However, he had yet to fully keep Grobschmied from entering, even with the elderly goblin's gentler approach.

The other problem was that the flashes of emotion from Voldemort were getting stronger, coming almost to the same level that Harry had experienced during his fifth year. Grobschmied's methods seemed more efficient than Snape's but Harry worried that they lacked the time for him to master the skill.

Something was different this time, though, Harry thought as he watched the waves hitting the side of the cliff. During his fifth year, he could sometimes hear Voldemort's thoughts, but now his insight into his mind was limited to sound and emotion and trivial thoughts for the most part. Perhaps it was a result of Voldemort's continuing efforts at Occlumency, but Harry wondered if it was possible to lock certain thoughts or memories from a Legilimens' access or even one's own conscious thoughts.

After a few minutes, Hedwig, satisfied that he wouldn't blow up any more rocks, but puffing her feather's up, nipped Harry's ear and hooted in a doleful tone that he took for discomfort. Feeling rather cold himself, Harry turned around and made his way back towards Taer, thinking longingly of a cup of hot chocolate.

A few minutes later, as he passed by an enclosed field, he heard a sudden, echoing bang, and he paused for a moment. A second gunshot fired, and then Harry, curiosity getting the better of him, walked along the brick wall barring his view of the field, and then peered in through the gate.

Hermione and Cecilia Grimrook were standing not too far from him, the latter lowering a rifle, which she had evidently aimed at a dummy about twenty feet away. Hermione had her wand out, but seemed to be looking at a wood-framed instrument lying on the ground, a notepad in her hands.

"What are you two doing?" Harry asked, but neither of them responded. Realizing that they hadn't heard him, he repeated the question, raising his voice.

Cecilia, who was closer to him, turned around and pulled an earplug from her ear. "Oh, hello, Harry. What are you doing out here?"

"Walking, but it's too cold to be out here much longer," he said.

Cecilia nodded. "I'm all for some hot tea soon, although we have a couple of other tests we'd like to try before leaving." Seeing Harry's curious expression, she explained, "We're studying the effects of bullets on magical shields, and whether or not it's necessary to enchant the bullets. We already have the results of an extensive study on goblin magic, but obviously we need one of you for human magic, so I asked Hermione to help out with this today."

"What are your results so far?" asked Harry.

"Interesting. In the first stage of the study, I'm going to test a variety of guns on 'Protego,' 'Protego maxima,' and 'Tego maledictem' without enchanting the bullets, to find out how many shots are required to shatter the shields."

"And can they?"

"It took one shot with this gun to shatter 'Protego,' and two with 'Protego maxima,'" Hermione informed him.

"Yes, I thought it might," Cecilia reflected. Pointing at the instrument, she said, "That measures the flow of magical energy. There's a short burst of energy when a bullet hits the shield, then, if the shield successfully shattered, the energy dissipates. I noticed earlier that a single shot won't destroy 'Protego maxima,' but it will weaken the energy flows, so I figured two shots would do it."

Harry frowned. "This sounds so easy, Muggle guns capable of shattering magical shields."

Cecilia nodded. "It does, but this is a war rifle with .50 caliber rounds. Judging from what I've seen so far, with a .35 caliber pistol, it would probably take five or six shots to break 'Protego maxima.' It's 'Tego maledictem' I'm most worried about. We tested that first, so far without success. The magical energies are disrupted when fired at, but they absorb the energy of the impact and then quickly revert to their previous state. If we decide to use guns, the very last thing we need is for Death Eaters to work out that 'Tego maledictem' can block them."

"Why not just enchant the bullets?" Harry asked.

The gobliness snorted. "Do you want to enchant every individual bullet we might use in this war?"

Harry had to admit that the very thought made him cringe.

"We'll do whatever it takes, of course," Cecilia continued, "but I think we'd all prefer to use unenchanted bullets as much as possible… again, should we decide to use these."

She then pulled the bolt back and Harry saw a brass cartridge pop out of the chamber. She then closed the chamber, and looked at Harry curiously.

"Have you ever fired a gun before?" she asked him.

"Er, no," Harry admitted. "Outside of TV, the only time I ever actually saw one before now was the shotgun Uncle Vernon bought when he was trying to stop wizards from tailing us… it was just before my eleventh birthday. He threatened Hagrid with it, but didn't get the chance to actually fire it."

"We'll have to remedy that," Cecilia remarked. She then looked at Hermione. "Shall we return to Taer? My feet are freezing."

Harry and Hermione agreed, and shortly thereafter the three of them trudged their way towards Drôn Khalgil, Cecilia with the rife slung over her shoulder, and Harry carrying the odd instrument she'd used to monitor the invisible shields. When they reached the north gate of the town, they spotted Ron, who was in conversation with an older goblin. His face was red, but whether this was from strain or from the cold wasn't clear, until they saw his impatient expression. But he brightened up when he saw them approaching.

"There you are!" he called out. "I've running around all over Drôn Khalgil looking for you, but I can't get this lot to understand me, and I don't really know enough Gobbledygook."

Cecilia looked at the other goblin and made some remark in said language which made him nod in understanding and move away.

"You know Cecilia and I were at the shooting range," Hermione told Ron.

"Yeah, but I didn't know where Harry was." Ron nodded at him. "Next time you go wandering, let us know roughly where you'll be going."

"I told Prof," Harry protested. "Why didn't you ask him?"

"He wasn't around when Grimrook asked for you."

"Rok's here?" asked Cecilia, surprised. "Why isn't he at work?"

"He says Gadlak's given him some important news, so he wants us all at Taer as soon as possible."

Harry looked at Ron curiously. "Good news, or bad news?"

"He didn't say."

Harry looked at Hermione and Cecilia. "Good thing we were heading for Taer anyway. Just let me get some hot cocoa and then we'll see what this is about."

* * *

When Rok Grimrook arrived at work that morning, he found Cerdik and Menger Gadlak in his office waiting for him. Gadlak, immediately upon seeing him, told him he had the morning off, and then passed him a note, along with a hurried explanation, telling him to take it to "you-know-where" immediately. Grimrook, looking at the note, immediately understood the significance of the words, and thus hurried away to Dhárdin di Ginbaingh, determined to tip off Harry and Dr. Grobschmied as quickly as possible.

Thus, before ten o'clock that morning, the three of them, plus Ron, Hermione, and Cecilia, read the last words and request of a dead woman:

_The beginning spells the end._

_Vengeance is mine, but your doing.  
__Observe the Inferi.  
__Everyone magical is in mortal danger, no partiality.  
__Sacrificial practices on the rise._

"Narcissa Malfoy wrote this?" Harry asked incredulously, staring at Gadlak's note.

Grimrook nodded. "It was in Griphook Finli's possession. Apparently she meant it to be opened four months after her death. Normally we'd simply pass it on to the appropriate recipient, but she provided us with none, so we opened it to see who it was addressed to. Since we don't know the exact day she killed herself, Griphook chose to open it four months after she was found."

"And who was meant to see it?" asked Dr. Grobschmied.

"The Aurors, as well as Aberforth Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley, surprisingly."

Ron looked startled. "She wants Dad to see it? What for?"

"Well, evidently she meant it to reach Voldemort's enemies," Grimrook answered him. "Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley are two people she probably knew for sure were involved with the Order of the Phoenix. Anyway, I found out about it because Menger was present when Griphook opened it, and he copied it down."

Harry set the note back on the sitting room table, seeing all eyes fixed on it.

"So at the last Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy and sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, turned on Voldemort, before killing herself," Dr. Grobschmied said solemnly. "She couldn't defy him in life, so she's doing so in death. The real question is why."

Hermione frowned. "'Vengence is mine, but your doing.' What does she mean by that? Did Voldemort, or one of the Death Eaters, do something to anger her?"

"Possibly," said Grimrook thoughtfully. "It wouldn't be the first time one of his supporters turned on him. Of course, they usually don't last long once they do."

Harry leaned back in his chair, some of his earlier frustration returning. "If Mrs. Malfoy had something to tell the Aurors, why not straight out say it, instead of being so cryptic?"

"There's any number of reasons," Grobschmied answered. "Maybe she was afraid the information would fall into the wrong hands, or maybe she thought the Aurors wouldn't believe her, unless they worked it out on their own."

"Still, don't you see the significance?" asked Grimrook. "It says 'Observe the Inferi.' The rumors that Inferi are using magic have been rampant for months, but _we_know firsthand that the Inferi are using magic, and more about _what_ is enabling them to do so."

Harry stared at him. "You think Mrs. Malfoy knew what sort of magic we witnessed at Godric's Hollow?"

"She indicates as such, and as part of some form of revenge, she's trying to tip off the Aurors, hoping to thwart this latest tactic of Voldemort's."

"What about the rest of it?" asked Harry. "Sacrificial practices? Everyone in danger? Well, we already know that everyone's in danger."

"Except for the 'no partiality' part," Grobschmied noted, frowning. "Everyone magical in danger, no partiality. I don't know about you, but that sounds like she thinks the danger's not to any particular segment of magical society, but to the whole, human, goblin, Muggle-born or otherwise."

"Why would the Death Eaters harness a power that's just as dangerous to purebloods as it is to their targets?" asked Hermione.

"Power," Harry told her quietly. "That's Voldemort's way, his end goal. He doesn't care what means he uses as long as he gets what he wants."

"What does she mean by 'The beginning spells the end?" asked Ron suddenly.

"We're… not sure," Grimrook admitted. "But really, the only clear part of this note was 'Observe the Inferi.'"

"But what if she didn't turn on Voldemort at all?" Ron asked, sounding nervous. "What if she's just trying to bait us, or get us to stick our noses where we shouldn't? Maybe it's some sort of trap."

The others looked at the note again.

"If it is, she's being really vague about luring anyone anywhere," Hermione remarked. "Anyway, why would she kill herself, if that was her intention?"

Ron threw up his hands. "I dunno, I don't exactly think like a Death Eater, do I?"

"Oh, and here I thought we'd been spending half our time 'thinking like the enemy thinks' since we first got here," Harry sarcastically muttered to Grimrook, who grinned.

"Anyone can regret their past actions," Hermione retorted to Ron, not hearing Harry.

"That's what Dumbledore said about Snape," Ron threw back.

"One man's actions doesn't speak for the whole," Hermione argued.

"Can we get back to the immediate subject?" Harry asked loudly, cutting them off before they started sniping at each other. "Ron, I agree that we should be cautious in how we approach this, but I also think Hermione's right. The note's too vague to indicate a trap. Mrs. Malfoy was clever, and surely knew that it could take the Aurors anywhere at any time, perhaps eventually leading to the information she has for them. But there's no way to know where exactly or when."

"There are too many variables," Grimrook agreed.

"At any rate, it's the only lead we've got," Hermione said quietly. "I'm not getting anywhere in my research, and nor is Dr. Grobschmied."

"If we can't find out what happened in Godric's Hollow here, we may have to take our inquiries abroad," Grobschmied added, groaning at the very thought. "Believe me, that could take years, but we don't have years. Godric's Hollow was not an isolated incident. Only last week, a Muggle town- Norton, I think it was called- was attacked by Inferi, and half the town square was massacred. The Aurors cleaned it up, but it happened so fast that it is almost certain that the Inferi were using magic, given that there's no evidence that any Death Eaters were actually present."

"It was the largest attack so far, but all the same, it's been going on for months," Grimrook added.

"And it seems to be getting worse."

"Are there any other reports of that wizard we saw raising up the Inferi?" asked Hermione.

"Not that I've heard," Grobschmied responded, "but if there are, the Aurors will be keeping them classified."

After a few minutes in contemplative and somber silence, Ron finally asked, "So what do we do?"

Harry looked at Hermione, and then at Grobschmied. "Where was Mrs. Malfoy when the Aurors found her?"

"In her house," Grobschmied replied. "One of the Malfoys' house-elves alerted the Aurors, probably on her instructions. The place seemed devoid of Death Eater activity, from what I understand, but that doesn't mean that's the case now."

"Where do they live, exactly?"

"Somewhere in the Peak District, I understand," Grimrook told Harry. "I think the nearest town is Glossop, in Derbyshire."

"What if we were to go to Glossop, and skirt around the Malfoys' property, not going in but keeping a close watch on it?" asked Harry. "Then, if it's safe, maybe go in and try to find out what we can."

"The Aurors probably already are," Grobschmied replied, "and we'd have to keep our heads down."

"Which all of us are good at doing," Grimrook added, smirking. "Mrs. Malfoy's our starting point, so I think that if we're going to find out anything at all, we have to risk going there."

He and Harry looked around at the others, and while Ron and Hermione both looked a little nervous, there were no objections.

"Right, then," Harry said, feeling relieved that, for the first time in months, he'd actually be doing something besides training. He looked at the others. "When do you suggest we leave?"

* * *

**This chapter's a bit shorter than my usual standard, but I wanted to get something up. I probably will be updating more slowly than I did over the summer. I expected as much (grad school's a beast) but if I go for a while without updating, it's not because I've given up on this. **

**Because of a future chapter, I may have to raise this story's rating to R. There will be a highly horrific scene in said chapter, which probably will require it. I'll make that change if and when it becomes necessary, but I'm going to let you all know in advance. **


	4. Chapter 4: The Study of Ancient Runes

Chapter 4

The Study of Ancient Runes

Ginny and Tonks wasted no time in relating to Kingsley Shacklebolt everything that Saul Croaker had told them. Though the Unspeakable had given little indication to _how_ catastrophic it would be if Voldemort obtained the unknown object, Croaker's involvement gave Kingsley pause.

"It begs the question of how much the Order as a whole should be told," Kingsley told them quietly, glancing toward the hallway as he spoke, as though worried that someone might be listening, even very late at night in the lounge at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. "On its own, the involvement of Unspeakables makes this new situation extremely precarious, possibly dangerous."

Ginny glanced at Tonks, who looked just as worried, and replied, "I had no idea just how deeply the Department of Mysteries is involved in all this. I always thought they were just involved in secret, Ministry-sponsored research."

Kingsley nodded. "That's the image they want the public to have," he told her, "but really, they're almost a power unto themselves, largely independent of the Ministry, and they always have been. Even the Minister doesn't know everything they're up to, and the only reason he tolerates their existence is their sworn allegiance, magically binding, to the laws of the Ministry."

"But why create a secret research/investigation institution when you yourself don't know everything they're up to?" asked Ginny. "It doesn't seem very practical for the Ministry, magical contract or not."

"The Department of Mysteries wasn't always part of the Ministry," Tonks told Ginny.

Kingsley nodded. "They used to be an organization of magical theoreticians, which were absorbed by the Ministry when it got out just how deep their research was going, and that they were actually getting involved in intrigues. The Unspeakables believe that there are some magical secrets that ought to remain secret, and so they agreed to become part of the Ministry only under the condition that they keep some of these secrets to themselves."

"So basically Ministry only made them the official guardians of those secrets," Tonks summed up.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Kingsley responded. "The point is, Voldemort is delving into a deeper, more dangerous element of magic which is unknown to everyone. The Unspeakables believe, probably rightly, that this should remain unknown to as many as possible."

"So what should we do?" asked Ginny.

Kingsley thought about it for a moment, and then he said quietly, "Aberforth ought to be told. Remus already knows, and Fred undoubtedly will tell George everything, if he hasn't already, but aside from that, for the time being this shouldn't go beyond that circle. If it becomes necessary to involve someone else, you must let me or Aberforth know before discussing it with them. Are we agreed?"

Tonks nodded, and after a moment Ginny did too, wishing she could at least talk about it with Neville and Luna.

"What about this Patrick Duncan fellow?" asked Tonks.

Kingsley frowned, thinking hard. "I can't say it sounds familiar," he said after a moment, "but didn't Miss Croaker indicate that he's involved with Ancient Runes?"

"She did, yes."

"Perhaps Bill would know who he is, then," Kingsley speculated. "If not, we should continue to ask around. It sounds like he's not terribly obscure. You don't need to reveal much, just find someone who knows."

* * *

"Patrick Duncan?" Bill repeated the next morning, frowning. Ginny waited as he thought about it, trying hard to remember. "It does ring a bell."

"What little do you remember?" Ginny asked eagerly.

He paused again, thinking. "I want to say he's some sort of archaeologist, but I can't remember much else. I'm sorry. He might be some important scholar to Ancient Runes, but probably in a field of study unrelated to Egyptian tombs, which was my line of work."

Ginny deflated, somewhat disappointed.

"If it matters that much to you, I can ask some of my colleagues," Bill reassured her.

"Thanks, that would be great." Ginny sipped her orange juice, thinking about her conversation with Croaker, as well as with Kingsley. In spite of this seeming closure to the conversation she noticed that Bill was watching her curiously. "What?"

"Why are you so interested in Duncan, anyway?" he asked. "I don't remember you ever being particularly interested in runes."

Ginny stopped herself from letting out an exasperated sigh, directed more at herself than at Bill. Then she slowly said, "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Bill raised an eyebrow, and opened his mouth to say something further, but then Molly and Fleur came into the dining room and the latter immediately reminded Bill that he'd be late for work if he didn't leave soon. He hastily quitted the room, but not before promising Ginny to send a letter to his colleagues as soon as he had a free moment.

Ginny returned to her breakfast, tuning out as her mother and Fleur immediately began arguing about the effectiveness of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover (Fleur preferred some French product called "À la Crasse" or something of that nature). She was somewhat disappointed that Bill couldn't tell her what she and Kingsley needed to know, though she suspected that Tonks, Remus, and the twins were trying to find out about the elusive archaeologist as well.

When she finished, she Scourgified her dishes and put them away, before running upstairs, heading for the mostly untouched Black family book collection, wondering if there was anything there she could find. The Croakers had told her that Duncan was fairly preeminent, at least in Runic studies, so she immediately set to work seeking out books on the topic.

As it was, the Blacks hadn't left a very good collection. Half of their books delved into Dark Magic, and a lot of the rest were highly pro-pureblood histories. In the course of the next hour, however, Ginny did locate some of Regulus Black's old textbooks from his Ancient Runes course, which she immediately took to her room upstairs.

She didn't have much time to peruse these books, however, before she had to leave for her afternoon shift at the flat in Southwark Fred and George had rented, originally as a place to meet up with D.A. members; but ever since the closure of Diagon Alley (with no sign of reopening any time soon), the twins had turned the flat into a makeshift base from which they continued the business through Owl Order. The three of them had spent nearly a week moving things from the shop into the flat, and Fred or George (able to access the shop through the connecting passageway with the flat) still occasionally snuck into the shop to pick up some supplies that were left there.

Though they hardly ever got to interact with customers in person anymore, Ginny still wore the Gwen disguise any time she left Grimmauld Place, something the rest of the Order had generally insisted on, but she saw their reasoning. Transit between Grimmauld Place and work involved ten minutes of walking, and in the present climate, it was unwise for Ginny, or any of the Weasleys, to go anywhere as themselves. Fred and George had rented the flat under a false name, and had not connected the flat to the Floo Network, preferring their activities there to remain unmonitored and anonymous. Because Ginny couldn't Floo there, and because she didn't have an Apparation license, she typically took a Portkey to an alley a few streets away.

The flat was located at Number 16, Beaconsfield Road, in a moderately run-down area of London, but Ginny kept her head low as she walked the distance from the alley to the flat, and most of the Muggles ignored her, though she saw a grandmother with a baby carriage shoot her a disapproving look for the heavy makeup that the disguise clip gave her.

When she reached the twins' door, Ginny slid her wand out from her jacket sleeve, and looked around. Seeing no one watching, she tapped the doorknob with her wand, and a second later heard Fred's voice say, "State your name, age, sex, hair color, wand type, birthday, occupation, birth place, nose shape, and one theory explaining why Severus Snape never washes his hair."

"Idiot," Ginny quietly muttered, laughing lightly and knowing full well what the appropriate response actually was, she responded, "Mischief managed."

There was a light click, and the door swung open. The first thing she found as she entered the flat was the not unusual sight of George tinkering with an unidentifiable contraption with little wood pieces and pieces of string hanging out.

"What's that supposed to be?" she asked.

"Don't know yet," George admitted, "but I'll make something brilliant of it yet." Ginny rolled her eyes, but before she could comment, he added, "There's a colossal pile of orders we need you to sort through and start putting together. Sorry about that."

Ginny shrugged. "It's what you hired me for, isn't it?" She took a seat at the table where she typically examined the Owl Orders, which George always picked up from their father's office in the mornings (Arthur had graciously offered for them to use his office address to receive mail, wanting to keep their flat as unknown as possible). The "colossal" pile he was talking about didn't actually look that big, though Ginny knew it would keep her occupied for most of the morning, and possibly for an hour or so after her lunch break as well.

As she set to work, Ginny asked George, "Did Fred tell you about last night?"

George nodded. "Reminds you of that summer after You-Know-Who came back, doesn't it? When Sirius told us that he was looking for a weapon of sorts."

"Yes, but I doubt it's a prophecy he's after this time." Ginny began placing the order forms into separate piles, sorted according to size. "By the way, I don't know if you've seen Tonks or Kingsley yet today, but we're not to tell anyone else what Croaker discussed with us."

George stopped fiddling with the thing on his desk and looked at Ginny, his eyebrows raised. Then he leaned in his chair and said, "Well, I suppose that makes sense. Fred made the whole thing sound really heavy, and you know things are really serious when Fred's obviously not joking. Do you know anything about this Duncan character they mentioned?"

Ginny shook her head. "I asked Bill this morning, but all he knew is that he's an archaeologist."

A small grin appeared on George's face. "Think we're on a search for the Holy Grail?"

Ginny snorted. "Careful not to say that in front of Luna. She'll probably tell you where it is."

"And who's keeping it," George agreed. "Undoubtedly one of King Arthur's knights, who made sure the entire place is booby-trapped anyway. And overrun with Death Eaters or something to that effect, because You-Know-Who thinks it'll make him immortal."

"I'm pretty sure he already thinks he's immortal anyway," Ginny reflected, and then paused, wondering where on earth she'd heard that. George, oblivious to her confusion, merely responded, "Perish the thought," and then returned to his tinkering, but Ginny continued to wonder about her own words, because it wasn't mere supposition. The moment the words left her mouth, she felt certain that somebody had told her precisely what she'd said, and that certainty left a strange feeling of disquiet in her gut.

But try as she might, she couldn't quite remember how or where she'd come under that very strong impression, that Voldemort was trying to make himself immortal, if he hadn't succeeded already. She supposed that Harry might have said something about it, but she also was sure that she would have remembered something that significant. Disconcerted, Ginny absentmindedly picked up the first order form without reading it and stood and wandered towards the pantry where Fred and George kept their supplies, and opened the door, wandering inside the pitch dark room and feeling around for the light switch. She probably never would get used to electrical lighting.

As she groped around, she accidentally knocked over something on a shelf or a table that she couldn't quite see. A moment later, she heard something spill and quickly she set the bottle upright, but something was still dripping.

Ginny froze. The dripping sound, mingled with the darkness of the room, filled her with a strange, irrational dread that she couldn't place. Then, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a laughing voice echoed.

"_Death is for the weak, and it is my aim to conquer it, to become immortal, but I will be happy to hand death to anyone who stands in my way." _

"Ginny?" Fred's voice sounded behind her, making her jump. He laughed. "Blimey, Gin, it's only me!"

Recovering herself, Ginny retorted, "Is that supposed to be reassuring? Where the hell is that light switch?"

Fred drew his wand and flicked it, and the light flared on. Ginny looked down and saw that what she'd accidentally tipped over was a bottle of love potion from the WonderWitch products. She drew her wand and pointed it at the potion that was still dripping onto the floor. "Tergeo."

As the potion vanished, she asked Fred, "Why was that open?"

"We were using it earlier, and George must not have put the lid on properly," he told her, taking the bottle and its lid and sealing it more tightly. "We're experimenting with a new potion, and thought it might be an effective ingredient."

"What sort of new potion?"

"A truth serum designed specifically to get the drinker to fess up to who they fancy without embarrassment," he replied. "Hopefully with the result that they actually get together with said person. Roll up, roll up! Tired of all the sexual tension between your two stubborn colleagues? One drop in both their drinks, sorted. Feel you can't work up the nerve to ask your crush out? A quick dose, and you'll have it done with no trouble at all."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You better not be thinking of selling or giving that to anyone below the age of sixteen," she told him sternly. "The bullying it could cause would know no bounds."

"Sixteen? So you'd be willing to test it?" Fred asked her happily.

"You know full well who I fancy, so I'd hardly be a good test subject," she reminded him. "I could easily fake it."

"True," Fred sighed. "For the same reason, George and I are hardly good testers either. I suppose the real difficulty is in finding out who would be willing to sample it."

Ginny looked back at the order form in her hands, and then remembered why she was there. As she began looking around the shelves for the first item, Fred suddenly said, "You're being very serious today. I'm surprised you didn't ask us who we fancy."

Ginny swallowed as she remembered her earlier flashback, but decided to divert both his and her attention away from what really put her in this mood. "Yeah, and George tells me that you were all serious when you told him what we learned last night."

"Well, who wouldn't be?" asked Fred. "But I make a point of not acting all serious during working hours, unless someone's trying to cheat us. It's bad for business."

"Did George pass on Kingsley's instructions to you?"

"Yeah, only a minute ago." Fred watched as Ginny picked up the last item in the order and headed back to her desk, where she would begin parceling everything. "Don't forget to put the money in the till."

"I already did," Ginny told him, and then she proceeded to unroll the parcel paper, but her thoughts were miles away, still fixed on her unsettling experience in the storeroom. Though Ginny had learned to cope with the nightmares, which were coming more frequently, what just happened was different. What unnerved her the most was that though she was absolutely positive that Riddle had spoken those exact words to her, she couldn't consciously remember him doing so. It was as though the memory was locked away somewhere, and she couldn't dwell on it.

The worst thing about this, however, as well as the nightmares, was that there was only one person alive who might understand, one person who she could talk to with minimal discomfort, and she had no idea where he was. Though Ginny had forced herself not to expect to hear much from Harry ever since he left, there still had been the side of her that hoped. But there was nothing.

She had hardly expected him to write, knowing that he would not compromise his location or activities, even to her, but even hearsay would have been better than nothing. But aside from wild rumors, which had begun to die down in the last couple of months, nothing was all she got.

Ginny had accepted all of it; but she couldn't help but feel sad and angry that her nightmares and memories of the Chamber of Secrets were getting stronger at this time, when the one person who might understand was far beyond her reach.

* * *

That evening, Ginny had hardly put one foot through the front door when she heard her mother calling her in for dinner, and she hung her bag and her jacket on a coat rack near the door, before removing her disguise clip and stepping into the kitchen. Aside from Molly, only Neville and Charlie were at the table.

"Your father's working late," Molly informed her, "and Luna and her father decided to take dinner upstairs, so it's just us tonight."

"Right." Ginny sat down, and served herself some potatoes. When Charlie asked how work was, Ginny answered evasively, mentioning only the boatload of order forms she had to sort through, and that Fred had accidentally turned himself green while experimenting with a new line of trick sweets.

"Did he fix it?" asked Neville, grinning.

"He and George are working on it," Ginny told him. "They're hoping to avoid having to stop by St. Mungo's. They'd probably be there all night, given how many people are there."

Molly pursed her lips, and nobody made any comment on Ginny's remark about the hospital; the effects of the war were seeping into every aspect of their lives, and the state of St. Mungo's was a glaring reminder of the degree of violence that both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds were enduring. But given that their lives centered around warfare now, it was nearly an impossible topic to avoid.

"How was the meeting with Jimmy Peakes?" Ginny asked Neville, who had gone that day with Alicia Spinnet to recruit her former Quidditch teammate into the D.A. Neville, following protocol, had kept his identity concealed, but Alicia had revealed herself to Jimmy, being his senior contact.

"Rather well, all in all," Neville told her. "He's still shaken up about Ritchie Coote's death. They were best friends, you know. But he seemed eager to help in any way he could."

Ginny nodded. "How much did he know of the D.A. beforehand?"

"Not much. There were rumors about the old D.A. at Hogwarts, of course, but Umbridge didn't exactly tell people there about it after she broke it up." He smirked. "I think by that point, she was fully aware that the news of Harry Potter leading an anti-Umbridge Defense group would have given other students ideas. You remember how it was. I'm actually amazed that Fudge didn't send anybody to Hogwarts to try to regain control of the school."

"I think he would have, if he wasn't so busy tearing Wizarding England apart in search of Dumbledore and Hagrid," Ginny pointed out.

"Anyway, all we had to do was tell him that the D.A. was organized by Harry Potter to prepare for the war with Voldemort, and he was ready to join up," Neville continued. "Even after we told him that this time Harry wouldn't be directly involved. Funny how Harry's old teammates have so far been the easiest to convince."

This was true. It had taken a few weeks before Ginny, Neville, and anyone else involved was able to really make progress in starting the new Dumbledore's Army, but they were surprised to find that the most willing participants were former members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. They largely had Fred and George to thank for that, but even the post-twins team had shown more readiness to fight than anyone else they'd so far contacted. Ginny supposed it was because of the aggressive-proactive nature of Quidditch, and also because Harry was such a good leader, even before he was actually team captain, that he automatically had their trust. None of them had any difficulty believing that Harry was still somewhere out there, fighting the Death Eaters. Ginny just hoped that she could gain their trust as well.

Well then, she thought, she had better make a start. Once she finished her dinner, the first thing Ginny did was head up to her room to start looking through Regulus Black's old school textbooks. Thumbing through the index page on the first volume, Ginny first looked for the name Duncan, but turned up nothing. She frowned, and then tried the subjects under "Archaeology," but again, there was nothing. Then remembering a trick Hermione had taught her, she tapped the book with her wand and said clearly, "Find me Patrick Duncan."

Normally this spell turned to the first page containing the desired term, but the book quivered for a moment, and nothing happened. Resigned, Ginny put this aside and tried the next volume. Nothing.

She got a momentary rush of excitement when the third volume contained one reference, located on a page about Canadian goblin linguistics, but her excitement rapidly faded when all she found was, _"According to the studies by magiarchaeologist Patrick Duncan, the runes and languages of Pukwudgie culture suggest a dualism in their cosmologies."_ The rest of the paragraph went on to explain a strangely similar belief in the wizarding cultures of Persia, but it explained nothing about Duncan himself.

"For God's sake!" Ginny yelled, now seriously annoyed. "How hard is it to find one archaeologist?"

"Ginny?" She turned around, trying to quell her frustration, and saw Remus peering into her room with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling her cheeks turn a bit red.

Remus eyed the books on her desk. "No luck either, huh?"

"So you've been looking too?" Ginny asked.

"Of course," Remus answered quietly, drawing up a chair next to her. "But I haven't found any mention of him at all, not where I was looking."

Ginny pointed at the paragraph in the old textbook. "That's all I found."

Remus squinted at it. "It's not very informative, except that this Duncan fellow studied American goblin languages. Probably their artifacts as well. I suppose that's something."

Ginny sighed. "I wish Hermione was here. I bet she'd dig up the right information in no time."

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but then Luna's voice interrupted him.

"Duncan?" she repeated as she entered the room. "Do you mean Paul Duncan or Patrick Duncan?"

Ginny abruptly turned to face Luna. "Do _you_ know who he is?"

"Which one?" Luna asked. "Paul Duncan used to write columns for _The Quibbler_. Patrick Duncan knows Professor Babbling. She has him give lectures in Ancient Runes every now and then. I've met both of them. What do you want to know?"

Ginny and Remus stared at her, astounded. Then, recovering, she hurriedly said, "Luna, tell me everything you know about him. _Patrick_ Duncan, I mean."

"He studies ancient American magical cultures," Luna informed them. "His lectures were usually on ancient goblin writing systems, and not so much on his line of work, but he did say that the runes of the ancient North American tribes are related to goblin runes from Transoxania. Wonder how goblins from there got to America?" She shrugged, and started staring into space, probably coming up with some theory explaining that.

"What else?" asked Remus, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Oh, erm…" Luna thought back for a minute. "I remember him telling us a little about what he does in America. He studies some extinct goblin tribe … well, he says they're long extinct, but how does he know?"

Ginny looked at Remus, who shrugged. "It doesn't explain what Voldemort's up to."

"Arkhin and Akashin," Luna piped up. When Ginny and Remus looked at her questioningly (and a bit warily), she clarified, "Dual forces at war with each other. Maybe he wants to harness those powers."

Ginny couldn't help but grin as she imagined Hermione's reaction to that. "Thanks, Luna."

"Oh, no problem," she said cheerfully, mistaking the meaning of Ginny's smile. Looking between them, "and clearly you don't want me here right now, but you're just too polite to say it. I'll go help Molly clean the kitchen."

She left. Remus stared after her, looking awkward. Ginny giggled. "Don't worry about it. She's not upset or offended. She's always like that."

Remus grinned and nodded. "I remember her from my classes, back when you were Second Years. I once found her in my classroom, half an hour into lunch break, humming to herself. She hadn't even noticed that class was out. Sometimes I wish she'd met Sirius."

Ginny snorted. "That would have been fun to watch. She was absolutely convinced that his name was actually Stubby Boardman."

Remus looked confused. "The Hobgoblins singer?"

"What could Duncan have discovered that would interest Voldemort?" Ginny wondered out loud.

"Could be anything," Remus speculated. "A weapon, a source of power, or a new branch of magic. The ancient peoples, especially goblins, used magic completely differently from what we're used to. If Voldemort could use an unknown power, it would give him a considerable advantage. It would make him even more unpredictable, and we wouldn't know how to fight it."

Ginny thought hard over what they knew so far, and then she straightened. "Duncan gave guest lectures in the Ancient Runes class."

"Professor Babbling," Remus said, catching on.

"Would you know how to contact her?" asked Ginny.

"No, but Minerva would." Remus stood abruptly, and made for the door. As he stepped out into the hallway, he looked back at Ginny. "You know what? You're right. We need to involve younger people more often."

Ginny grinned.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that took so long. Once again, this a chapter that's not really as long as my usual standard, but I hope you like it. I was stuck on one part for a long time, unsure of how much I wanted to reveal and when, exactly. Pacing can be tricky.**

**I'll try to get another up sooner than I did this one**.


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